


We Better Make a Start

by prettyonthethrone



Series: Evangeline [2]
Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Halloween, sooo much fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-07 22:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16417394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyonthethrone/pseuds/prettyonthethrone
Summary: Cordelia didn’t want her daughter under the impression that her powers as a witch were something to be made light of, and having her know that thousands of people across the world dressed up and pretended to be what Evangeline - and the women she’s grown up around - actually are, was something Cordelia simply didn’t want to deal with.Well, until time ceased to be on her side.Title is from Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac.





	1. Chapter 1

. . .

“This is a disaster.”

 

Misty stifles a laugh as she holds her cell phone to her ear. “Hi to you, too, darlin’.”

 

“Did you read the email?”

 

“I read it.” Misty plops into a chair in the greenhouse and gets comfortable.

 

“I don’t know why I even bother trying yoga.”

 

“Cordelia Goode, please tell me you did not leave your class early for a goddamn email from Evvie’s school.“

 

“You know I hate it anyway; I can never relax.”

 

“That’s not good for ya, baby. Especially if you wanna try for number two.”

 

“Right now, I don’t even know what to do about the first one.” Cordelia sighs. “Can you read it to me again? I’m driving.”

 

Misty shakes her head and puts her phone on speaker mode so she can find the email. The administration at the private school she and Cordelia had enrolled Evangeline in earlier this year is no stranger to sending out emails. Misty had teased her wife that it was undoubtedly to keep crazy parents like Cordelia from calling every day to find out details about everything from school events to curriculum schedules.

 

“ _St. Joan’s Country Day School invites you to celebrate the 41st Annual Halloween Spooktacular_ ,” Misty reads. “Before I go any further, I need to make sure you’re not drivin’ to the school to permanently un-enroll our baby,” she deadpans.

 

“I’m coming home,” Cordelia promises, and then adds, “I’m not insane.”

 

Misty snorts. “Do not even pretend it didn’t cross your mind, Dee. I’ve been married to you for six years.”

 

When she gets only a huff in reply, Misty continues. “ _Play games galore for prizes and treats; there’ll be eyeballs and worms for all of you to eat. So put on a costume and fly on it; we’re so excited for the fun to begin._ ” She waits a few seconds, and then,

 

“Are you sure we can’t pull her out?”

 

“I will meet you at home, honey. Goodbye,” Misty says before hanging up the call and pocketing her cell phone. “And I am makin’ you an extra large cup of chamomile tea, because _lord almighty_.”

 

Misty finishes with the plant she’d been working with and washes her hands before leaving the greenhouse. She makes her way out to the carriage house behind Robichaux, which they’d turned into a small home at the beginning of Cordelia’s pregnancy. It was one thing for Misty and Cordelia to live together in The Supreme’s room in the house proper; it was another to keep everyone up at night with a crying baby.

 

It was the first time that either of them had felt like they truly had a home to themselves. Between Misty’s unhappy, über religious upbringing and Cordelia’s suffering through Fiona’s botched mothering job, neither woman had ever felt like she belonged anywhere. Misty had loved the Swamp and Cordelia had found her way at Miss Robichaux’s, but that didn’t fix their loneliness. The day the restoration was finished and they had a three-bedroom home of their own was among the most exciting days of both women’s lives.

 

Misty enters the home, lights a soothing candle, puts _Rumours_ on the record player, and starts a kettle on the stovetop. Her wife comes in fifteen minutes later, and Misty takes a moment to admire Cordelia in the clothes she’d worn to her (abandoned) yoga class. She sets two cups of tea - chamomile for Cordelia, eucalyptus for herself - on the coffee table and gets comfortable on the couch. She pats the spot next to her in invitation, and Cordelia walks over to sit.

 

“Hi,” Misty says, and kisses her lips.

 

“Hi.”

 

“Baby, it’s time to tell her. We’ve talked about this.”

 

Cordelia reaches for one of Misty’s hands, alternating between toying with the rings and interlacing their fingers, like she loves to do when she’s avoiding eye contact.

 

“I just don’t know why it has to be done _now_.”

 

Misty sighs. “B’cause we said October first, Delia. Tomorrow’s a Saturday; she doesn’t have school... It’s a good time. What difference does it make if we tell her now or in a week?”

 

When her wife doesn’t answer, Misty uses her free hand to cup Cordelia’s face and turn her gaze towards her. “I know you don’t wanna ruin her innocence,” Misty starts, “but we always knew we were gonna have to do this.”

 

“She shouldn’t have to think that witches are some kind of costume or make-believe,” Cordelia insists. “This just opens a whole can of worms that we’ll now have to worry about. She’s going to want to know if other costumes - zombies and ghosts and vampires - are real, too.”

 

Misty twirls a strand of her wife’s blonde hair on one finger. “I know, baby. But, if we don’t tell her first, the kids at school will. I’m sure they’re already talkin’ about dressin’ up.”

 

“I knew we should have home-schooled her.”

 

“We can’t keep her in this house forever,” Misty tells her, not for the first time.

 

Cordelia takes a sip of her tea, wrinkling her nose at the taste. “The kids at school are vicious.”

 

“Dee, it’s Pre-K.”

 

“What are we going to say, Mist? How are we going to explain this?”

 

Misty shrugs. “She loves Halloween. We just tell her that dressin’ up is an extra part of it, and that it’s all for pretend.“

 

“I hate this.”

 

“I know ya do. But we can’t _not_ let her dress up for her school’s Halloween party; that ain’t fair to her, baby. And just think of how cute she’s gonna look in whatever costume she picks.” Misty gasps. “We can even do a family costume! Wouldn’t that be fun?”

 

Cordelia tilts her head. “I am _not_ dressing up.”

 

“Oh, come on, Dee. Y’know my parents never believed in Halloween - some bullshit about it _interferin’ with the Lord_ \- so I never got to pick costumes as a kid.”

 

Cordelia’s expression softens then, as it often does when she’s around her wife, and she presses a kiss to Misty’s lips. “We’ll talk about it. After this nightmare of a conversation with our baby.”

 

Misty sighs. “You really needed that yoga class, babe.” She leans in for another kiss, and then brings their joined hands up to her lips. She kisses the scar on Cordelia’s index finger, an injury from chopping vegetables while newly blind. Misty had come to help, and the two shared a moment that led into the first time they’d ever been intimate together.

 

“Let me take your mind off of all’a this instead, hmm?” Misty says between kisses. “Two hours ‘til school pickup is more than enough time for me.”

 

Cordelia briefly considers the intake paperwork she’s supposed to do for a new student today, but by that point she’s already horizontal, and Misty’s wonderfully skillful hands are underneath her sports bra, and she thinks the paperwork can definitely wait.

 

. . .

 

Evangeline, to no one’s surprise, spends the entire car ride home talking about her _perfect_ day at school. Her teacher, Miss Clarke, had decorated the entire classroom for Halloween given the date of October 1. The four-year-old chats incessantly about the bats hanging from the ceiling and the spider webs around their cubbies and the pumpkin at the door of each room around the school.

 

When they arrive back at Robichaux, she darts into the house to find Zoe, who she knows is always teaching her last class of the week when Evangeline gets home from school on Fridays. She’s well aware that she isn’t supposed to interrupt the class, but she’s considering doing it anyway when she runs into someone in the hallway.

 

“Gramma!”

 

Myrtle lifts her into her arms and kisses Evangeline’s cheek. “Hello, my perfect girl. How was your day at school?”

 

“It was _sooo_ good,” she cries. “It’s Howloween!”

 

“It is, dearest, you’re right.”

 

“My teacher hanged up lights and bats and _everyfin’_.”

 

“So your school is truly celebrating the holiday, is it?”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

Myrtle is about to ask whether or not Evangeline has told her mothers when the little girl continues her spiel.

 

“And Henri was the line leader today, and he’s really nice.”

 

“They gave a leadership role to a _boy_? How intriguing.”

 

Evangeline nods. “Gramma?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Can we go to Zoe’s classroom?”

 

“I don’t believe she’s finished until 4, darling.”

 

“But I wanna tell her about my school,” Evangeline pouts. “And about Howloween.”

 

“Well, how about you tell her after?” Myrtle suggests. “And in the meantime, we can get you a snack.”

 

The four-year-old grins. “Yes! A snack. Can I have cookies?”

 

“You can have whatever you like, dear.”

 

“I want one million cookies,” Evangeline giggles as Myrtle carries her towards the kitchen.

 

“Well, you certainly are your mother’s daughter.”

 

. . .

 

By Saturday morning, Cordelia is a nervous mess. In the master bathroom of their home, she sets her toothbrush back in its place and braces both of her hands on the counter. She takes a deep breath, and Misty waits patiently beside her.

 

“Where is she?” Cordelia finally asks.

 

“She’s in the main house, eatin’ breakfast with the girls.”

 

Misty follows her wife back to their room and watches as Cordelia changes from her nightgown into a dress for the day. Cordelia intentionally takes her time selecting each item of clothing, so Misty laughs to herself and makes herself comfortable in the arm chair in their bedroom.

 

At Robichaux, Evangeline is at the kitchen table with Zoe, Queenie, and Madison. The four-year-old is making the “charms” in her bowl of Lucky Charms rise out of her cereal, so Zoe gives her as stern a look as she can manage. (Which, she’s learned over the past few years, is ridiculously, stupidly hard with a kid as cute as Evangeline.)

 

“You know what your Mommy said about Lucky Charms, Ev. You have to eat the plain ones, too.”

 

“But those are boring,” Evangeline tells her, grabbing a rainbow marshmallow piece from where it hangs in the air and sticking it into her mouth.

 

“Agreed,” Madison says, and Zoe rolls her eyes. “Give me one of those, will you?”

 

Evangeline eyes a leprechaun hat in the bowl and moves it slowly across the table and into Madison’s mouth, giggling the entire time.

 

“And I used to think kids were useless,” Madison says.

 

“Evangeline, sweetheart.”

 

The sound of her mother’s voice draws her attention to where Cordelia is entering the room. “If I come over to that bowl and see only the plain pieces, we’re going to have a talk.”

 

Cordelia walks over to her daughter, bending to kiss her blonde head of curls.

 

“Mommy, I eated some of the plain ones already, see?”

 

“I do see. And it looks like you have a lot more plain ones to go,” Cordelia says. She presses more kisses to Evangeline’s cheek. “I need you to finish and then we’ll get you dressed, because Mama and I are taking you to the park.”

 

Evvie gasps excitedly and nods as she shovels a bite of cereal into her mouth. Cordelia laughs and wipes away a dribble of milk on her daughter’s chin before standing up straight.

 

“Good morning, girls.”

 

Zoe, Queenie, and Madison each offer a response, and Cordelia makes her way to the kitchen counter, where her wife hands her a cup of coffee.

 

“Are we gonna start decorating today?” Queenie asks.

 

“We are,” Cordelia answers between sips.

 

The Supreme had been hesitant, upon taking up leadership of the Coven, to give into the girls’ requests to decorate Robichaux for Halloween. Fiona had always found decorations of any kind of be tacky, and, though Cordelia hated to admit it, that opinion had wormed its way into her own brain.

 

 _“This house oozes Halloween already. For Christ’s sake, a Coven of witches lives inside of it,”_ Cordelia had insisted.

 

Ultimately, though, the defining factor in the decision to decorate for Halloween was exactly what separated Cordelia from her mother: her willingness to take others into consideration. Most of the girls at Robichaux had grown up loving Halloween, and learning they were witches did anything but dampen their spirits surrounding the holiday.

 

And, though Cordelia would never say it aloud, one particular opinion carried enough clout for her that she would have chosen to decorate no matter what. Misty, who had only learned of Halloween through her peers at school but was never allowed to even speak of celebrating it, was enthralled with the idea of adorning Robichaux with stringing lights, skulls, and pumpkins.

 

The one place that Cordelia drew the line was with costumes. Her students could, of course, select and wear costumes out to wherever they desired - as long as it wasn’t spoken about in front of Evangeline. She didn’t want her daughter under the impression that her powers as a witch were something to be made light of, and having her know that thousands of people across the world pretended to be what Evangeline - and the women she’s grown up around - actually _are_ , was something Cordelia simply didn’t want to deal with.

 

Well, until time ceased to be on her side.

 

And that’s how Cordelia finds herself at their neighborhood park, sitting on a swing next to Evangeline while Misty pushes their giddy daughter.

 

Cordelia makes eye contact with her wife, who nods and smiles, encouraging her to begin.


	2. Chapter 2

. . .

_And that’s how Cordelia finds herself at their neighborhood park, sitting on a swing next to Evangeline while Misty pushes their giddy daughter._

_Cordelia makes eye contact with her wife, who nods and smiles, encouraging her to begin._

 

Misty slows down her pushes, prompting Evvie to complain and ask to go higher. Instead, Misty sits down in the grass in front of both swings.

 

“Listen, sweet pea,” Cordelia says. “Mama and I actually want to talk to you about something.”

 

Evangeline’s eyebrows knit together in confusion, her face becoming a carbon copy of Misty’s when she’s perplexed. Cordelia thinks it’s the cutest expression she’s ever seen and she fights the urge to wrap her daughter in her arms and keep her there forever. Misty can see she’s struggling to start, so she takes the lead.

 

“So, y’know it’s Halloween time.”

 

“I love Howloween!” The four-year-old cries.

 

“Me too, sugar. And, durin’ Halloween, people decorate with spiders and cobwebs and lights - y’know, like your classroom and all the houses we see?”

 

“Uh-huh. And our house.”

 

“And our house,” Misty agrees.

 

“Sweetheart,” Cordelia finally speaks, “there’s also another part of Halloween that some people like to do aside from decorating. They dress up.”

 

“In their nice clothes?“

 

“No, not like that. They...play pretend. They dress up in costumes as things that they’re not.”

 

“Like Madison? She dressed up one time like a girl from a long time ago for a movie. She looked funny,” Evangeline tells them.

 

“Kinda like that,” Misty says encouragingly.

 

“People dress up as all kinds of things: as superheroes, or animals, or even witches,” Cordelia says.

 

Evvie‘s expression turns immediately to one of disbelief. “Mommy, you can’t dress up as a witch. Where your gifts would be?”

 

Cordelia can’t help but smile at their daughter’s usage of the word _gift_. She and Misty had both wanted Evangeline to think of her powers as such and had encouraged that word in particular. Evangeline had, after all, exhibited extraordinary abilities since she was as young as two years old.

 

“Well,” Cordelia continues, “the people who dress up as witches are just playing pretend. They’re not real witches.”

 

“Then why are they pretendin’?”

 

“For Halloween,” Misty explains. “It’s part of the fun. People think that witches are neat and they like to pretend they have gifts.”

 

“But what do they wear? Do they dress up like Mommy?”

 

“ _Some do_ ,” Misty could say, but she knows her wife would freak.

 

“They wear silly costumes,” Cordelia answers. “It’s all just for play.”

 

Evangeline thinks about this for a minute. “Do you dress up for Howloween?”

 

“Well, no,” Cordelia says slowly. She looks at her wife and then back to Evvie. “But... we could.”

 

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Misty grin.

 

“I could wear a costume?” Evangeline asks.

 

“We could talk about it,” Cordelia answers. “If you wanted to.”

 

“Will other kids in my class dress up?”

 

“Probably.”

 

“Does Auntie Stevie dress up? Does Zoe? Does Gramma?”

 

“Sometimes,” Cordelia settles for the easiest answer.

 

“Last year, for example,” Misty adds, “Zoe and Kyle dressed up as superheroes together. They’re not really superheroes, but they were just pretendin’ for Halloween.”

 

Evangeline frowns. “Why Zoe didn’t show me that?”

 

“It was after you went to sleep,” Cordelia answers, feeling only mildly guilty. The pout doesn’t disappear off of her daughter’s face, though.

 

“They were superheroes?”

 

“Not for real. Just for pretend.”

 

“But what about real superheroes?”

 

“Superheroes aren’t real, sweetheart,” Cordelia says patiently.

 

“But witches are for real. And you said people dress up as them. How they can dress up like somefing that’s not for real?”

 

Cordelia looks helplessly at Misty, who is rubbing her temple.

 

“Baby doll, you ‘member how your Grandma told you that witches used to be a secret?”

 

Evangeline’s eyebrows are still crossed, but she nods. “She said when she was four like me, she had‘ta not tell anyone or she would get in big trouble.”

 

“That’s right. People used to not think that we existed. Funny, huh?” Misty smiles, protecting her baby from just how _not_ funny the horrible fear and denial of witches had been throughout history. When Evangeline nods, she continues. “Well, witches were hiding, but we were still real, right?”

 

Another nod.

 

“Folks thought that the idea of witches was really fun, even though they didn’t believe that we existed. So they would dress up like how they thought we might dress. They wore funny hats and long, black dresses and pretended that they had gifts. It was a pretty darn popular costume for Halloween, and it still is.”

 

“So, see,” Cordelia follows, “superheroes aren’t real. But people like the idea of them and they think they’re neat. So they dress up like them for Halloween, too. And that’s what Zoe and Kyle did.”

 

“Just for pretend,” Evangeline finishes.

 

“Exactly.”

 

“Are people in my class gonna dress up like witches? Even if they’re not witches for real?”

 

Cordelia begins mentally crafting an email to Evvie’s teacher at St. Joan’s to specifically ask if any children had mentioned choosing a witch as a costume - an email she’s positive her wife would never let her send.

 

“It’s possible, my love,” Cordelia answers. “But Mama and I don’t want you to worry about that. We told you about this because there’s going to be a Halloween party at your school. Kids will come in costume, so we want you to be able to pick one, too. Only if you want.”

 

Evangeline nods in understanding, but doesn’t otherwise answer.

 

“Can we swing now?”

 

Misty smiles sympathetically. “Sure we can, sugar.”

 

. . .

 

Later that night, once Evangeline is tucked in and her mothers are in their own bed, Cordelia snuggles into Misty’s arms, resting her head on her chest.

 

“Am I a bad mother?” Cordelia’s voice is so small that Misty can’t decide whether she’d rather kiss all of her wife’s worries away or bring Fiona back from the dead to punch her in the face for making Cordelia so insecure.

 

“You are the best mother this world has ever seen,” Misty settles on. “Our baby is the luckiest girl in the world.”

 

“I just feel like there’s so much that we hide from her - because of me and my worries. Maybe she’d be better off if we were more honest with her about what this world thinks of witches.” Cordelia sits up to look at Misty’s eyes. “For Christ’s sake, we’re going to have to tell her some day that her mother was burned at the fucking stake.”

 

She shakes her head in disbelief and Misty nods. “I know. It won’t be easy. But it wasn’t easy to explain her powers to her, and we did that just fine. And it wasn’t easy to explain why people wanna interview you and take pictures of us when we’re out in public anywhere, but we did that, too. One day, she’s gonna have to learn about a lotta hard things - like the Salem Trials, and the dark side of witchcraft, and Fiona.” Misty pauses to drop a kiss to Cordelia’s head. “But, when the sun rises, she is wakin’ up to mamas that love her more than anything she could ever even dream of - somethin’ neither of us had. So, it’ll be okay.”

 

Cordelia sighs into her wife’s chest. “You always know what to say. I love you.” She looks up at Misty. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

 

“Goddamn right, y’are.”

 

Cordelia bursts into laughter that shakes the both of them and Misty grins, delighted that her words had had the intended effect.

 

“I love you, too, baby,” she says into a kiss, and it’s the last thing either of them says for a while.

 

. . .

 

By Sunday morning, decorating Robichaux is a full blown operation. While many things are done using magic - lights on the house and things in high places, for example - more work than ever is done by hand. Cordelia and Misty hadn’t said anything to the students, but the girls knew nonetheless that Evangeline would want to help decorate. And for a four-year-old who had grown up in a world where powers are the norm, sometimes using her hands was far more exciting than magic. The girls always love to indulge her, but today even more than usual.

 

Mallory takes it upon herself to plan a pumpkin carving party that evening so, with approval from Cordelia, she works on setting up a plethora of pumpkins, carving supplies, and paint. She enlists Zoe’s help for food, which lands Zoe happily in the kitchen with Kyle and Evangeline.

 

“Zoe!” She hears, immediately after the sound of a long beeping noise. “Zoe, they’re ready!”

 

Zoe watches her tiny assistant jump up and down in front of the oven, so she abandons the mixing bowl she’d been washing to walk over to her.

 

“Alright, Ev, let’s check.”

 

One hand covered by a mitt, she opens the oven and pulls out the pan full of chocolate chip pumpkin muffins.

 

“It looks like they’re ready,” Zoe agrees.

 

“Can I taste?”

 

Evangeline’s eyes are widening by the second, and Zoe snorts. “Not yet; we have to wait a few minutes. They’re too hot.”

 

“What’s too hot? Is it the same as what smells so good?” Misty walks in and Evangeline runs immediately to her.

 

“Mama! Me and Zoe finish the muffins! Come see!”

 

Misty swings the four-year-old into her arms and peers down at the baking pan. “Wow, you gals have been hard at work, huh?”

 

“Evvie is a great baker,” Kyle says from where he’s cleaning dishes in the sink.

 

“She sure is,” Misty agrees, and presses a series of smooching kisses on her daughter’s cheek. “These look delicious, baby. Are they for tonight?”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“You’re making your apple cider, right?” Zoe asks.

 

“Yep,” Misty answers. “Between that, these muffins, Queenie’s pie, and Mallory‘s s’mores idea, we’re gonna have sugar comin’ out of our ears.” She tickles Evangeline as she says it and the little girl giggles loudly.

 

Misty isn’t wrong; there’s practically _only_ sugar being served at Mallory’s impromptu party in the front yard of the property.

 

“Mommy, I wanna carb my pun’kin.”

 

Evangeline looks between the girls who have already gotten to work on their pumpkins and her own area, which is free of any carving tools.

 

“You’re too little to use those tools, my love,” Cordelia tells her. “They’re very sharp and could hurt you.”

 

“I wanna,” Evvie whines. “Mama, can’t I?”

 

“Mommy’s right, baby,” Misty says, albeit reluctantly. Rare as it is that she’s willing to say no to her daughter, just the thought of the knives and razor edges around Evangeline is enough to make her put her foot down.

 

“But—“

 

“We can paint, though!” Misty interrupts. “We can paint such pretty pictures on our pumpkins.”

 

“No,” Evangeline pouts. She folds her arms across her chest and, not for the first time, Misty sees a miniature frustrated Cordelia. “I wanna carb.”

 

“Evangeline,” Cordelia says, keeping her tone even, “we’re going to paint our pumpkins or we’re not going to do anything at all. It’s your choice.”

 

“No fair!” The four-year-old cries. “Everyone gets to carb et‘cept me!”

 

She’s drawing the attention of several of the girls now - including Madison, who is sitting nearby and had basically been guilted into joining the party by Zoe.

 

Evangeline’s face wrinkles and her mothers know they’re in for a tantrum, so Misty tugs gently on their daughter’s arms until the little girl is sitting in her lap. Evvie is fully crying now, so Misty rocks her in her arms and kisses her head.

 

“Shh, it’s okay, baby doll. You’re just tired is all.”

 

“I—wannna—carb,” Evvie sobs. “I’m a big’irl.”

 

“I know y’are, sugar,” Misty promises. “Can I show you somethin’?”

 

“No,” the four-year-old cries into her mother’s chest.

 

“Please?” Misty tries, smiling at her wife over Evangeline’s head. “Pretty please, with ice cream and rainbow sprinkles on top?”

 

Evangeline says something, but her voice is muffled in Misty’s blouse.

 

“Hmm?” Misty asks, so her daughter finally looks up at her.

 

“Do I get ice cream wif rainbow sprinkles?”

 

“I think maybe we could see about that,” Misty says, and kisses Evvie’s head. She looks at Cordelia, who is wearing the half-exasperated, half-sympathetic look that is no stranger to The Supreme's face. Misty puts her palm out. “Gimme your left hand, Dee.”

 

Cordelia’s brows furrow, but she places her hand in Misty’s. Misty folds her fingers until only her index is left.

 

“See this mark, here?” Misty gently rubs her thumb across the scar on Cordelia’s finger so that Evangeline can see it.

 

The four-year-old nods.

 

”A long time ago, before you were born, Mommy was cuttin’ carrots one day with a sharp knife. And, even as careful as she was, the knife slipped a little bit and it cut her, right here.”

 

Evangeline looks up at Cordelia, who nods in confirmation.

 

“Did it hurted?”

 

“It hurt a lot,” Cordelia nods. She’s about to say that she also couldn’t actually _see_ the injury to see how bad it was, but stops when she instantly remembers who she’s talking to. As with many things in their pasts, she and Misty had not even attempted broaching the subject of Cordelia’s temporary blindness with their daughter.

 

“I was very lucky because your Mama was nearby, and she heard me cry and she came to help me.”

 

Evvie looks back to Misty. “Did you kiss it all better?”

 

“I sure did, baby. I kissed a _lotta_ things better.”

 

“Mist,” Cordelia says, blushing.

 

“Anyway,” she snorts, then sobers when she looks down at their daughter, “it made me so, so sad to see Mommy hurtin’. So, of course I don’t wanna see my Evvie girl hurtin’ like that, either. It just scares me, is all. Does that make sense, baby?”

 

Evangeline’s nod is interrupted by a huge yawn, so Misty hugs her tight and rocks her in her arms.

 

“Do you want to go get in bed, sweetheart?” Cordelia asks softly. It’s barely six o’clock, but the little girl had skipped her nap today. Cordelia’s never hoped her daughter would agree to something more because - after witnessing the last few minutes - she, too, needs to be in bed.

 

With her wife.

 

As soon as possible.

 

But,

 

“No,” Evvie pleads. “I’ll paint. Can I?”

 

“Of course you can, love,” Cordelia promises. “Let’s go pick some colors, huh?”

 

Evangeline nods, so Cordelia and Misty walk over with her to where Mallory had set up all of the paint supplies. Cordelia wraps an arm around her wife’s waist and places her mouth close enough to Misty’s ear that there’s no chance of anyone else overhearing.

 

“We need to put ear plugs on her tonight for what I’m planning on doing to you.”

 

Misty chokes on air, Cordelia smirks, and Evangeline jumps up and down at the sight of all of the paint colors. Changing gears immediately, Cordelia grins down at their daughter.

 

“Which ones do you want, sweetheart? Pick any of them.”

 

“Oh, Evvie, are you painting your pumpkin?”

 

Evangeline looks over and sees Madison pumping more blue paint onto her tray. She nods and Madison raises an eyebrow.

 

“That’s pretty impressive, you know. Painting is _way_ harder than carving. And it’s a lot more fun.”

 

“My mommas said I’m too little to carb my pun’kin b’cause I’ll get hurted.”

 

“Carving is gross anyway,” Madison tells her matter-of-factly. “You get pumpkin guts all over your hands.”

 

Evangeline makes a face and Madison shrugs a shoulder. “I bet your painted pumpkin will be awesome. Come show it to me when you finish, okay?”

 

The four-year-old grins and nods her agreement, and Cordelia mouths a silent _thank you_ to Madison over Evvie’s head.

 

“I want blue paint,” the tiny blonde tells her mothers, who help her to get some on her tray.

 

“What do you say?” Cordelia reminds her.

 

“Blue paint, _please_. Pretty please wif rainbow sprinkles and gummy bears and all the toppings in the _whole wide world_ on top,” Evvie insists.

 

Misty smiles. “That’s my girl.”

 

. . .

 

To both mothers’ surprise, the topic of Halloween costumes doesn’t come up again until over a week later.

 

Evangeline has a half-day at school on a day that Misty spends mostly teaching classes, so Cordelia picks up their daughter. Since Cordelia has a litany of other tasks and meetings, she leaves Evvie with her wife to entertain herself in Misty’s classroom.

 

Misty had never been surprised by how much Evangeline loved this. She adored getting to sit in class with the “big girls” and listen to their class discussions despite having no clue what was going on. She was like a miniature Cordelia, listening with rapt attention and eager to understand anything. She would “take notes,” otherwise identified as scribble drawings that ended up taped to every square inch of Misty’s desk.

 

When Misty tasks the girls with a quiz on incantations, Evvie draws and completes yet another picture, and hops down from the desk that’s far too big for her to go secure it to her mother’s desk.

 

“Mama,” she whispers, “I taked more notes.”

 

“You did,” Misty whispers back. “What a smart girl you are.” She lifts Evvie into her lap and kisses her nose. “Don’t tell anyone, but you’re my smartest student.”

 

Evvie giggles and Misty places a gentle finger on her lips to quiet her. She cuddles the four-year-old closely and watches her students working on their quizzes. She’s almost certain that Evangeline is falling asleep on her shoulder, so Misty slowly rubs circles on her back until the little girl is snoozing.

 

It isn’t until the class is ending and the students are turning in their quizzes that Evvie wakes up with a pressing question.

 

“Mama?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Can I ask the girls somefin’?”

 

“Course y’can, baby girl.”

 

Evvie climbs from her mother’s lap onto the desk and looks at the girls, who are talking quietly amongst themselves or on their phones.

 

“Hi,” Evvie says, just loudly enough to earn grins and _aww_ ’s and tender looks. “What's everyone bein’ for Howloween?”

 

Misty laughs at the unexpectedness of the question. She winks at her students. “And keep your answers appropriate, unless you want your Supreme to have your head on a platter.”

 

Evvie is unfazed by this and waits patiently for the girls to stop giggling and answer her question. Some things, she understands - Wednesday Addams, a pirate, a few superheroes, a skeleton - and other things have her turning around to her mother, face crinkled in confusion.

 

“How you wanna dress up like a bunny?” Evvie asks one student, so Misty rises and picks her daughter up off of the desk.

 

“A’right, monkey, I think that’s enough for today.” Misty kisses her cheek.

 

“Evvie, what are you going to be for Halloween?” Kaelyn, a girl who came to Robichaux not long after they’d opened their doors to the public, asks.

 

“I don’t know yet,” she answers, shrugging her tiny shoulders. “My school has a pawty.”

 

The girls react excitedly, which has Evvie grinning giddily, which prompts more _aww’_ s, and Misty wonders why there was ever a petition to get a dog at Robichaux when Evvie is practically the school pet.

 

“Girls, go ahead and leave early. I’ll see y’all on Thursday.”

 

When Cordelia gets home that evening, Misty is getting dinner ready and Evvie is helping by decorating the table with the name cards she’d made during one of Misty’s classes.

 

Evangeline jumps into Cordelia’s arms as soon as she’s set down her bag.

 

“Hi, sweet pea. Mommy missed you so much today.”

 

“I made presents for dinner,” Evvie tells her, pointing to the table, so Cordelia walks over to see and kisses her wife hello on the way.

 

“Wow!” Cordelia grins at her place card, which spells “Momy” in decently shaped letters and has a drawing of a pink heart. “Baby, this is beautiful! Can I keep it forever?”

 

Evangeline beams and nods, so Cordelia kisses all over her face. “Let’s see the other ones.”

 

Evvie shows her Misty’s, which has “Mama” next to a drawing of a rainbow, and then “Evangeline” - which she knows Misty had to help her spell - with what she assumes appears to be a star. Cordelia aptly praises both before setting her daughter in her chair and sitting at her own place to eat.

 

“Evvie,” Misty says, “why don’t you tell Mommy what you asked the girls about today?”

 

“I wanted’a know their Howloween costumes,” she answers between bites of her soup. “Hazel is gonna be Elsa,” she adds about her best friend at pre-school.

 

“Oh, yeah?” Cordelia asks. “What are other people at school going to be?” She makes eye contact with Misty, who knows her wife is partially digging to find out if anyone is dressing as a witch.

 

“Henri is Star Wars. Juliana is a ballerina,” Evangeline answers, tripping over the word just a bit. “I forgetted the other ones.”

 

Cordelia takes a sip of her wine. “Have you thought about what you might want to dress up as?”

 

The four-year-old doesn’t look up. “A little.”

 

“Just a little?” Misty asks. “It sounds like you’ve been thinkin’ on it quite a bit.”

 

Evangeline shrugs, so Cordelia pries.

 

“Sweetheart, you can be anything you want to be, okay? I know it’s a little bit confusing when it’s your first costume, but you can do absolutely anything you want.”

 

Evangeline ponders this for a minute while Cordelia and Misty make concerned eye contact across the table.

 

“Will you dress up for the Howloween pawty, too?” She finally asks.

 

Misty beams.

 

“We sure will,” she answers before her wife can overthink it. Cordelia’s hesitation is immediately healed by the smile that takes over Evvie’s face, so she reaches for her wife’s hand on the table and nods.

 

“Of course, my love,” Cordelia adds, fully realizing that she would go to any insane length to make her daughter feel even minutely more comfortable.

 

“So,” Misty says, eyes sparkling, “what is it that we’re goin’ as?”


	3. Chapter 3

“Oh. My. God. You _must_ let me get a picture.”

 

“Aren’t we the cutest things you’ve ever seen?” Misty exclaims.

 

Zoe looks all three of them up and down, shaking her head in disbelief. “You guys look amazing.”

 

“It was Evvie’s idea,” Misty says proudly.

 

“Of course it was; she’s a genius. Come here!” She says to the four-year-old, who runs happily into Zoe’s arms. “You are going to be the best dressed kid at the entire school. Look at you; you even have the basket and the little dog!”

 

“ToTo!” Evangeline offers.

 

“And these little braids!” Zoe squeals. “I’m in love.” She looks up at the other two women. “Cordelia, who did your makeup? It looks amazing.”

 

“That would be yours, truly.” Madison walks into the room and smiles at her finished product. “She’s the sexiest Tin Woman I’ve ever seen; that’s for sure.”

 

“Madison,” Cordelia warns, but a smile appears on her face and Misty leans over to kiss her cheek.

 

. . .

 

_“Are you sure about this?”_

 

_“Delia,_ yes _!” Misty promises. “We live in N’Orleans, baby. People here appreciate Halloween, and costumes, and good ‘ole fun for the hell of it.”_

 

_“What if other parents aren’t dressed up?”_

 

_Misty throws her hands up. “Who cares? And, besides, since when have you cared about other parents?_ _We’re doin’ this for our baby - and it’s gonna be_ fun _.”_

 

_“You’re right,” Cordelia nods after a minute. “Okay. But how the hell am I going to look halfway decent as the Tin Man?”_

 

_“Unfortunately, I know exactly the person to ask.”_

 

. . .

 

Cordelia looks down at her outfit, which Madison had done an incredible job with. Black suede booties, a chic silver, glimmering dress, dangling earrings, and silver eye makeup that‘s tasteful but still dramatically fun.

 

Misty, for her part, had had a blast coming up with her own costume. Her plaid flannel, which she tied at the waist, and jean overalls have straw coming out of them at each opening. She’d teased her already wild curls underneath a fun, pointed hat to finish the look.

 

Evangeline had just about screamed when she saw her mothers in their costumes. The Tin Man and the Scarecrow were her two secondary favorite characters from the movie she’d seen so many times, so to say she was ecstatic was an understatement. 

 

The three of them pose for several pictures before Evvie, clad in her sparkly red shoes, blue checkered dress, and little blonde braids, jumps up and down in front of her mothers.

 

“Time to go now! It’s Howloween at my school!”

 

Cordelia laughs and, once she and Misty each have a hand in one of Evangeline’s, they bid the girls goodbye and walk outside to the car.

 

“Delia,” Misty says, quietly and above their daughter’s head, “lord almighty, your ass looks good in that dress.”

 

Cordelia gives a grin that she reserves only for her wife. “Think the Tin Man and the Scarecrow ever got it on?”

 

“They sure will tonight. Hell, I would right now." She hums the tune of her character's famous solo. " _If I only had a strap-on_."

 

“ _Misty_!”

**Author's Note:**

> Share your thoughts if ya feel like it :)


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